![]() ![]() Maybe just the silent sound that a bird might hear, flying in the clean, cool air, high above the earth. The sound of the gun blast would be the last sound she would ever hear. She could almost feel the ice-cold bullet shooting through her hot, troubled brain, freezing the pain for good. She would place the gun in the freezer for a few hours before she did it, so it would feel frosty and cold against her head. As round and as smooth as an ice-cold blue martini. ![]() She even knew how she would kill herself. As a matter of fact, the thought began to appeal to her more and more. She had looked down into that black pit of death and had wanted to jump in, once too often. “Lately, it had been an endless procession of long, black nights and gray mornings, when her sense of failure swept over her like a five-hundred-pound wave and she was scared. ![]()
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